


Bleeders

by Beabaseball (beabaseball)



Series: Aitsumu for Aitsumu's Sake [1]
Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: Blood, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Gore, Headcanon, Other, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:43:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beabaseball/pseuds/Beabaseball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Aikuro, it was not just logical, but almost human decency. To Tsumugu, it was a debt that he would never be able to repay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeders

**Author's Note:**

> All standard disclaimers apply, as well as this new disclaimer saying that I’m pulling EMT culture out of my ass and saying it’s because KLK is set in the far future and since being an EMT in a dystopia is probably really different than nowadays, please forgive me and continue to save my life the next time I’m in a car crash, y’all, please, you do amazing work.

“Oh my god,” Aikuro said, hardly daring to breathe. He did though. He did, gasping, regretting it, and immediately being overwhelmed by the horrid stench coming out of the room. “Oh my god, _Kinue_!”

Dr. Matoi moved first, shattering the safety glass with a fire extinguisher and snatching the experimental knife from his belt with a speed unexpected from such an arthritic man. He leapt into the testing room and slashed the lab coat kamui off of her and fought it into the corner, anchoring it to the tile by stabbing it through the lapels.

“She’s still breathing!” Kinue’s little brother shouted.

Aikuro’s heart stuttered. He gagged again on the scent again, but Kinue’s little brother knelt beside her without seeming to notice. His hands trembled and twitched, but all he did was take her by what was left of her shoulders and head and cradle her in his lap. Kinue’s little brother, was an EMT, brought in specifically for his medical knowledge, but that way he kept trembling—if there was a way to save her, he may have known it, but not how to do it in whatever precious few seconds were left.

Dr. Matoi staggered back towards the center of the room where Kinue and her younger brother were splayed. Aikuro joined him promptly, kneeling over the siblings and watching as, before their eyes, her faint breath stilled.

Kinue’s little brother made the most wretched sound, like someone had lodged something deep into his throat and he had to fight to speak at all.

“She,” he said. He took a deep breath through his nose. The blood scent hung heavy in the air. “She said. She said to continue. With the experiments.”

He gasped for air, not unlike Kinue had moments before.

“Those were her last words. She said, ‘continue with the experiments.’ Are you fucking kidding me?”

They didn’t answer.

Kinue’s little brother went silent after that.

000

Tsumugu Kinagase knew how to deal with death. He had seen many people die, both in his few short years of military service and his time as an EMT. Most of the death he’d seen in vehicle accidents, but there were a wide range of causes and an even wider range of incidents. Illness. Bloodloss. Infections. Internal damage. Organ failure. Asphyxiation. Crushed by lab coat.

He would have laughed if his throat weren’t so tight. He would have liked to laughed, but he just couldn’t seem to find any humor left in him. He stood like that, stiff-faced, in Dr. Matoi’s shower, the blood long washed off him and his fingers long turned pruney. The water was still hot. The bathroom was filled a cloud of steam so thick it made his lungs heavy.

Dr. Matoi and Mikisugi told him that it would be a pretty routine test. Something they and Kinue had done many times—wearing that particular lab coat. The worst that happened tended to be light to moderate blood loss, bruising, soreness, and fatigue. They always kept a medic on standby, just in case, and for the last three sessions, Kinue had volunteered Tsumugu. Better to keep secrets within families, she’d said with a wink and a grin.

‘Course, big sis. I definitely spent so long studying and honing my medical and survival skills to help you with your crazy scientist sewing shenanigans. Whatever you want. I’m only available a couple hours on Tuesday and Sunday afternoons, can you work with that?

Tsumugu turned the water hotter.

He had met death many times, ever since the first time he climbed in the back of an ambulance. He knew how to handle the aftercare of death: validate pain, don’t view them as broken or pitiful, nudge in the direction of accepting the new reality that was the continuance of life in the shadow of death.

Tsumugu turned the water hotter, until the lever wouldn’t turn anymore, and wondered how the fuck he was supposed to do all of that on his own. It was one thing to walk someone through grief for a few minutes outside a trauma center. It was another altogether to walk _himself_ through it for the rest of his life. Did this count as traumatic? He was certain, if he were a third party observer, he would have shouting a resounding ‘yes,’ but standing in the shower watching the water run down his legs and trying to feel his numb hands—Would he? Did he have trauma? Surely he would, after watching that. Surely, after years of being in bullshit situations, watching bullshit getting people killed, there would be some sort of acute stress disorder if not full-blown _bullshit_.

 _Bullshit_. He was talking in his head so calmly, even though his hands were still shaking and his heart was still pounding in his chest and he _couldn’t feel the goddamn water burning him anymore_.

He turned the water off with a violent twist of the lever.

Moments later, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Kinagase?” the man on the other side of the door called. The voice was young and deep. Not Dr. Matoi. Kinue’s other coworker. Mikisugi. “May I come in?”

Tsumugu took a moment to grip the white shower curtains in his dark hand and steady himself. Though he hadn’t been able to bear the water’s heat, the rest of the bathroom made goosebumps rise on his skin.  “I’m naked.”

“Best way to be,” Mikisugi said, opening the bathroom door and stepping inside. A current of air from the hallway swept in, sharp and painful compared to even the air in the bathroom. Tsumugu quickly pulled the shower curtain shut between him and Aikuro and his stupidly cold hallway air.

Maybe that shower had been a _little_ warm.

Mikisugi shut the door behind him; he had a fluffy white bathtowel in one hand a fresh set of uncontaminated clothes in the other. Their bloodstained clothes had been set aside for now, until it was decided what to do with the death-tainted but life fiber-free fabric.

“I brought you some new clothes, and I wasn’t sure if you’d forgotten a towel or not, so I brought that as well,” Mikisugi said. “You’d been in here for a while so I wanted to check in. You remembering to breathe?”

“Well, uh,” Tsumugu said, after a moment, leaning around the shower curtain to take the offered towel—he still had a handful of reservations about being completely exposed, even in front of a nudist.  “I’m not on the floor, yet. I might still be in shock.”

“Yeah, you’re ah,” Mikisugi said, “You’re taking this pretty well. …Has your skin always been that red?”

Tsumugu looked down. With the white bath towel pressed against his aching skin, he could see that—yeah. He’d probably scalded himself a little bit. “It’ll be fine. I’ll take care of it.”

The fluffiness of the towel was no longer so appealing when he started to dry himself and the long threads irritated his inflamed skin. Still, the pressure was nice. Instead of wrapping the towel around his waist, as he usually would, he wrapped it about his shoulders as well, like a cloak. It was long enough to cover everything necessary, and. And it still felt covering and protecting, even after what he’d seen today when being covered— even as Mikisugi ushered him out of the shower stall and put the toilet lid down and gestured for him to sit.

Tsumugu sat. Mikisugi sat on the counter beside him. “I am so sorry, Kinagase.”

“Tsumugu.”

“Mh?” Mikisugi didn’t look like he’d expected to be corrected, but to his credit, he didn’t move away. His face clearly said _we aren’t close enough to be using first names_ but he at least attempted to be tactful. “I didn’t realize you preferred first names.”

Tsumugu huffed and reached up to rub the wet out of his eyes. “Two useful facts: one, people call Kinue, ‘Kinagase,’ not me,” he said. “Two, I don’t care about first names that much and I have no goddamn idea what your first name is, Mr. Mikisugi.”

Mikisugi laughed, a little hollowly, but it was still a laugh. “My apologies, then. We should try that once more. I’m Aikuro, chief intelligence head of Nudist Beach. I enjoy naming inanimate objects and silently taking over the Nudist Beach engineering department.”

Tsumugu rolled his eyes but humored him. Stupid talking was at least something he could distract himself with. “Tsumugu, Kinue Kinagase’s little brother. EMT. Ex Army. Vegetarian.”

“And part time bodybuilder?”

“Nah, dude, I work out for health. If I want body-mods I’m more for hair shit.”

“I see that,” Aikuro said, his eyes darting up to Tsumugu’s dyed Mohawk. “Did you style it yourself, or go to a salon?”

Tsumugu must have made a sound, as Aikuro’s eyes widened just the slightest fraction.

“Ah,” he said. The smile faded from his face. “I see. You two were very close?”

A slow moment passed. Tsumugu shook his head. “Not really.”

“Oh.”

Not wanting another silent, stressful minute, Tsumugu sighed and started talking before Aikuro could give him another pitying look.  “Don’t give me shit. You probably knew her better than I did. We were getting closer, lately. But I only moved in with her because of money. Taxes hit me hard this year and job stress was starting to kill me. Dr. Matoi subsidized her living expenses—I dunno if he does that for you or not, but she’d worked out some deal with him. Not having to worry about money made shit a little easier to deal with. ‘S when she told me about your fucking naked warfare shit and asked me to come help out— it’s a _clothing_ company? I knew it was weird, but I didn’t think that—”

There was no reason to tell Aikuro anything about himself. It was simply explaining his situation to avoid a long silence and inevitable stream of useless apologies, but the sudden choke in his throat returned and all the words and explanation Tsumugu had cluttering up his head came to a stuttering halt.

Aikuro’s hand rested at the base of Tsumugu’s neck, rubbing small circles into his back and slowly, very slowly, helping his shoulders relax back down and his throat open up once more.

When he could speak again, finally, Tsumugu said, “We were going to go shopping this weekend. So she could buy me a bunch of off-brand stuff before it was taken out of the market.”

Aikuro made another humming sound and continued to rub the juncture between Tsumugu’s neck and shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Then, when Tsumugu began to choke again, he continued. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Tsumugu shook his head. “I’m _not_. Fuck. I just... I don’t feel like crying.”

“All right,” Aikuro said. A few more long, uncomfortable moments passed as the steam started to evaporate from the mirror and walls of the bathroom. “Is there anyone else we should tell? Friends, family?”

Tsumugu shook his head. “It was just us.”

“I see,” Aikuro said. He’d run out of things to say, apparently, because after that he didn’t say anything more except for, “I’m sorry. Again. About everything. I’m so sorry.”

Tsumugu just nodded, having nothing to say to that. He wasn’t sure if there was anything he really _could_ say. What else would there be to say. His mouth was heavy and his jaw and neck were stiff. He didn’t even really feel all that capable of pulling his towel back in place from where it started to slip off his shoulder. Didn’t really feel like it was worth it to lift his hands from his lap. Didn’t have whatever it was he needed to get the knot in his chest out with a good cry.

“Is there anyone who can take care of you?” Aikuro said.

“I can take care of myself,” Tsumugu told him.

“I’m sure. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you couldn’t. It’s just that having someone around in case you need anything would be a good idea.”

Aikuro’s hand moved from the neck juncture and slid down to Tsumugu’s shoulder, where it was promptly shrugged off; a small spark of indignation finally fueled his ability to move.

“Thanks for letting me clean up,” Tsumugu said. With all the indignation he had, he stood. He hung the towel across his shoulders to act as a curtain between himself and the nudist before tugging on the new, clean clothes. The fabric scratched painfully against his damaged skin, but he didn’t make a sound. “I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t expect to see much of me again.”

Aikuro did not reach his hand out towards him again. “Of course. Can I at least stop by to check in on you?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine. Tell Dr. Matoi goodbye for me. I don’t really wanna hang around any longer.”

Tsumugu finished dressing. He paused to look at himself in the mirror for a moment, rubbing at his reddening eyes before stalking out the door into the frigid hallway. His indignation was still there, coiling in his stomach, but his knees almost gave out beneath him.

It must have been the shower. The water had been too hot. Yeah. Definitely.

000

Five days later, Tsumugu was on Dr. Matoi’s doorstep, and it was Aikuro who let him in.

The young redheaded man looked haggard. There were deep bags under his eyes and his broad face had become gaunt and hallowed.

The first thing he said was, “is there any way to fight them without using those fucking lab coats?”

Aikuro blinked and quickly ushered him in. “Excuse me?”

“REVOCs,” said Tsumugu, stepping inside to the privacy of the mansion before speaking. The door shut tight behind him, as it had that day just a week before. “The guys who make the life fibers. Is there any way to go against them without wearing those goddamn clothes?”

“I, uh,” Aikuro said, “I don’t know if I’m qualified to answer that, Tsumugu. Do you want to sit down? Please, come in and get something to drink.”

Tsumugu made no move to follow Aikuro to the kitchen. “If they’re fabric then they can be cut, or unraveled, or _something_. If they attach themselves to the skin of people, then there’s gotta be some way to make them loosen their grip. Chemicals, pore exfoliates, a really fucking thin knife—something. Let me tell you two really fucking important things. One: it’s stupid to think that the only way it’d work is putting the fibers against other fibers. You know the phrase, when you fight fire with even more fire, the whole world turns to a piece of shit. Two: to put out fire you use sand, or water, or baking soda. Something to smother the source’s food supply. I don’t know enough about life fibers or your organization to know what it is that would counteract them.”

“Tsumugu,” Aikuro said, holding up a hand to try and make the man slow down on what was quickly becoming a tirade. “I’m sorry. I know you’re upset. But we’re going to continue the experiments on the kamui.”

“I know that!” Tsumugu’s voice had not lowered even the slightest despite the interruption. “Kinue’s last request was that the project continue. I’m not fuckin’ arguing that. And it’s not just your experiments that’d kill people, is it?”

The question took Aikuro aback somewhat, but he nodded, slowly. “Yes. Though our experiments were never intended to be fatal.”

“But the rest of the clothes are,” Tsumugu said, leaning in close. He had red circles under his eyes. Red circles and deep, dark bags under his poor blue eyes. “That’s the whole conspiracy, right? The clothes spread throughout the world and people are crushed one by one. Fuckin’ crazy?”

Again, Aikuro nodded, sort of wishing this conversation was happening while they were sitting down and drinking tea instead of in the middle of the front hall. “Did Kinue tell you everything, then?”

“Probably tried,” the other man said. If it were possible, Tsumugu scowl became deeper, his face becoming marred by lines. “Dr. Matoi had a knife that day.”

Aikuro nodded once more.

Tsumugu continued. “I know you have _something._ The knife and the coat. You’ve got the knife to work but you’re still trying for the coat; why?”

“Because the knife is made of life fibers as well,” Aikuro said, raising his hands defensively as Tsumugu jerked forward as though to strike—Aikuro’s acupuncture needles were in his belt, but it was never the most productive conversation when one of the participants was completely paralyzed. Lectures worked very well that way. But not conversations. “ _Condensed_ life fibers. The handle itself is metal, so we can actually use it, and unlike a kamui, it doesn’t need to be synchronized, but they’re _useless_ unless you come into contact with the outfit itself, and—”

“—and most people die before they get close enough,” Tsumugu finished the sentence. His shoulders slumped. “So using a kamui’s all you can really do to fight them. What do you need to use a kamui?”

Aikuro hesitated before answering. “Force of will. Preferably being in good health, since it feeds off your bloodflow.”  
  
“Let me try to synchronize with it.”

 “Tsumugu,” Airkuro said, his voice softening, “No. One Kinagase is enough to sacrifice to that lab coat—don’t give me that look. You could never synchronize with it, not after what happened to Kinue. Don’t feel guilty. Neither Dr. Matoi nor I would be able to handle it either. She was a special case. She _believed_ in that coat—we’ll have to find someone else.”

Tsumugu stood still and crumbled. “You mean find someone who doesn’t know what it’s capable of.”

“Someone who won’t _resist_ ,” he said. “And seeing what we’ve seen… if there were even a chance before for one of us to synchronize willingly with a life fiber… now it would be impossible. Especially for you.”

“I’m ready to die for this.”

Aikuro watched him. His head was down. His whole body was clenched.

“If it means no one else will be eaten like that, I’m ready to die for this. I’ve been ready to do it for less. Please, let me help.”

And he was on the floor, begging.

  
Aikuro couldn’t have that.

It felt a little wrong, but he got on the floor beside the younger man and gripped the Mohawk until Tsumugu was forced, gritting his teeth, to sit up.

“And what are you going to do if I say no?” Aikuro said, giving the Mohawk a sharp tug.

Tsumugu glared at him, fists clenched against the floor. “Probably break in and steal your shit.”

“I promise, it will kill you,” said Aikuro.

“I told you, I am _ready_ to die.”

“Nudist Beach doesn’t need any suicidal fighters.”

“I’m not fucking—”

“Shush and let me talk,” Aikuro said. With a single swift movement, he plucked three acupuncture needles from his belt and jabbed them into the proper pressure points, rendering Tsumugu immobile mid-word. “That’s better. Now, as I was saying. We don’t need fighters who are going to charge into battle at the slightest provocation, uncaring whether they live or die. We _do_ need competent fighters, though. Most members come to us after living a life of intense poverty, rendering them unable to afford the REVOCs garments in the first place, or they were _very_ into fashion and as a result must be retrained from the ground up. Very few were fighters. Very few come to us fit for fighting.”

He paused, and though he knew it would be quiet, he was still pleased when he wasn’t interrupted. Merely glared at.

“You, however, came out of military training. You have emergency medical training. Nothing as extensive as a surgeon or doctor, but you can keep people going long enough to get them to someone with more technology and knowledge if necessary. You’re determined. You absolutely cannot wear a kamui, especially not the one we’re currently developing… but, you can be an asset to us, if you promise to listen to what I have to say.”

Aikuro looked down to Tsumugu, who seemed to have realized he could still move his eyes. He blinked slowly, as though to say he was indeed listening.

 “You were interested in the knife,” Aikuro said. Again, Tsumugu blinked his affirmation. “We’ve largely scrapped that project on account of no one being able to wield it effectively. However, if you’re really that interested, I’d be willing to try and bring back the anti-fiber weaponry program with you as the primary tester and field agent. You’ll get to destroy a lot of life-fiber and Goku uniforms if it all works out.”

Aikuro grinned as Tsumugu’s eyes widened. One by one, he plucked the paralyzing needles from the younger man’s body, and as Tsumugu’s muscled relaxed back into use, Aikuro asked, “So what do you say?”

Tsumugu sat on his knees and lifted his head. His bloodshot blue eyes were wide and yet still unstained by tears.

He said, “I will never be able to repay you.”

Aikuro laughed, shook his head, and helped Tsumugu up off the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Today On “Beabae Accidentally Finds The One Character With A Dead Older Sibling 14 Episodes Before The Reveal” : This Fucking Bara
> 
> Legit, the title for this fic was up in the air until the last minute, but it comes from the song “Bleeders” by the Wallflowers. It was sort of a ‘eh, maybe I’ll do it’ until I realized the line “sometimes I must confess, I do feel a little overdressed” was in it.
> 
> I wonder if anyone reading this ever read bbbreakdown and if you did, heeeeyyyy I didn't mess with 'em too much this time.
> 
>  
> 
> News Update:
> 
>  
> 
> Taking baby steps to try and get out of this writing slump that July’s Angel updates threw me into. Found Kill la Kill. Fell in love with kill la kill. Never gonna leave hetalia, but please, gimme more kill la kill I spent three days trawling fic archives and there were so few Tsumugu fics. I found, like, one that actually explored a little bit of his trauma with death. I’m just devastated that there’s so much trauma in KLK but so few fics exploring it! Like. Eigih. To be fair though, this def isn’t my best work, so maybe KLK is just really hard to write for for some reason?! Not having a very well defined background universe probably helps with that aspect. Is the rest of the world as utterly insane as the highschool? Who knows.
> 
> I like how KLK has some really genuinely disturbing body horror, but it still was so, so careful to keep Kinue’s death either off-screen or so stylized it’s almost censored. I just think that’s interesting for an anime that literally showed the main character’s bisected body flying through the air and tumbling into the sea.
> 
> Also I honestly have… very few characters I actually ship. Like. I’ll write pairings, but I don’t really ship them. But Tsumugu and Aikuro? I will get behind a bro fic with them, hell yeah I will, but I will also get behind a bro fic with literally anyone. But these two don’t actually have a bro fic as the first thing in my head, and that’s incredible.
> 
> Did you know that on the wiki, friends are listed? Tsumugu and Aikuro are each other’s only surviving friends. That’s beautiful.
> 
> How can it be that the one fandom I actually have a legit ship in is also the only fandom which largely ignores
> 
> ((more seriously though, how come I keep finding the ones with the dead older siblings? They pop up on screen and I adore them the moment they show their stupid face and stupid theme song, and then 14 eps later they got dead sibs.))
> 
> Other fic updates:  
> The Best Nightmare is at 3,950 words. Angel ch 8 is at 2,500 – 4,100 words depending on what makes the cut. Both will hopefully be published before November. If Nightmare wraps up nice, I already have a new project lined up. If anyone wants to ask about it or suggest any other things they wanna see me write, just give me a shout, the ask box is open.
> 
> Bea out.


End file.
